


Six Lives; Six Chances

by xxxbookaholic



Series: Fantober Writing 2020 [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Detective Saihara Shuichi, Fantober 2020, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Interns & Internships, M/M, Ouma not Oma, Phantom Thief Oma Kokichi, a lot of different aus in this one, tourist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbookaholic/pseuds/xxxbookaholic
Summary: Kokichi was an enigma. A lie and a reality, all in one. He was complicated and yet so simple, merciless and yet so full of empathy. He was one of the many things that had plagued Shuichi’s thoughts both during and after the killing game.And yet, even then, Shuichi had always felt like he’d known him before they’d known each other. Like he was someone he’d always known, but could never truly understand.orjust how many times you can lose someone until it finally sinks in
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Fantober Writing 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948714
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Six Lives; Six Chances

**Author's Note:**

> fantober day 2: coffee & tea
> 
> Before you start, just know that this is a reincarnation AU! (And yes, it has an eventual happy ending. After writing my angsty canon compliant fic, I can’t make them suffer any more.) I listened to Enchanted by Taylor Swift and listened to this playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6qCCpGrd9HaN2pjct0p3Ez?si=bTaJlBMdRfico9Ltx8eh5w a lot while writing this fic.
> 
> edit: i changed the description because it sucked

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

**_[ their fifth life ]_ **

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

After the killing game, Shuichi retired to living in a cheap apartment with cheap furniture and cheap neighbors. He couldn’t think of anything better to do; the deaths he’d seen, the lives that had been lost… They’d drained all the passion he had left. The only thing he could bring himself to do was write.

He wrote about Monokuma, about his fellow students, about the horrible executions, about the trauma such a game had left the survivors with. He wrote until his hands were sore and his legs were asleep and then he wrote some more.

And finally, when he published the book, made some money off of it, ended the cycle of Danganronpa’s killing games, he rested.

Still, though, it never felt like enough. Nobody’s lives could be made up simply by writing a book. No matter how many times he talked about how wonderful his classmates were, how none of them deserved what had happened to them, it would never truly bring them mercy.

_One person’s life isn’t worth a thousand words. It’s worth that of another life._ These were the things he thought as he sat in front of Kokichi’s grave, mourning. Maki and Himiko had already left the gravesite; they’d gone to grieve for their friends, as they did every August.

And just like every August, Shuichi was the last to leave, spending the rest of the evening sitting in front of Kokichi’s grave and wondering what he would have done if he’d survived. _Would he have ended the killing game in the same way we did?_ He always wondered.

Kokichi was an enigma. A lie and a reality, all in one. He was complicated and yet so simple, merciless and yet so full of empathy. He was one of the many things that had plagued Shuichi’s thoughts both during and after the killing game.

And yet, even then, Shuichi had always felt like he’d known him before they’d known each other. Like he was someone he’d always known, but could never truly understand.

Sighing, Shuichi got up, finished off the coffee in his hands, and made his way out of the graveyard, his head hung low. _He still had work to do._

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

**_[ their first life ]_ **

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

Once upon a time, Shuichi didn’t like coffee. He used to despise it, in fact. It was too strong, too bitter, and too hot.

Of course, though, once upon a time didn’t count to shit once he began his work as a private investigator.

It had become an addiction, so much so that he bought his own coffee machine. It was half to save money, half to save time.

_Apparently, though, everything in his life was going to shit_ , Shuichi thought to himself as he stared down at his broken coffee machine. Judging by its appearance, nothing seemed wrong. Apparently, his constant use of it had worn it down, because no matter how many times he pressed the _‘on’_ button, the machine just wouldn’t turn on.

At that point, he was beginning to question whether paying the bills was really a good enough reason to wake up at such an ungodly time.

Sighing, he glanced down at his watch, trying to calculate how much time it would take him to get to the store, buy a new machine, come back home, make his coffee, and then somehow get to work five minutes early.

No matter how many times he turned over the idea, it seemed impossible. _Which it was._

So, with a stumble in his step, he grabbed his bag full of files and made his way out the door, praying that the café down the street was open. From what he’d heard, it was a 24/7 café, but of course, people said a lot of things.

It only took about five minutes to get to the building, and apparently his luck was starting to be restored, because the _‘24/7 shop’_ sign was still on the window, the lights were still on, and people were still littering the tables.

The moment he opened the door, he realized what the muffled sounds he’d been hearing outside the shop was. There was screaming coming from behind the counter; not panicked yelling, but rather, frustrated yelling.

“Miu, if you don’t stop wasting our whipped cream, I’ll end you!” A girl with twin pig tails was threatening, her eyes narrowed at a girl with long pink hair and a wicked smile. _Miu_ , Shuichi deduced.

“Yeah, whore,” a boy added on helpfully. He was short with a purple ponytail and looked way more awake than anyone Shuichi had ever seen. _Figures._

Shuichi was starting to wonder if he really needed that coffee.

Still, though, despite his uncertainty, he made his way to the line that seemed just a little too long for his taste and waited, pulling out his phone so he could text one of his coworkers and let them know he’d be a bit late.

He got no response, but the text was read, so he decided it was better to just leave it at that.

“Next.”

Shuichi slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and looked up, only to come face to face with the bright, way-too-cheery-for-eight-in-the-morning barista. His luck really was tripping that morning.

“Hi, welcome to Agora! How can I help you?”

He almost grimaced at how welcoming he sounded. _Maybe we should switch jobs,_ he thought but didn’t say. “Can I just get a black coffee?”

The boy’s expression changed from excited and joyful to judgmental and blank so quickly that it almost gave Shuichi whiplash. “Black coffee? At eight-thirty? Jeez, you must be real pathetic,” he commented, but said nothing more as he typed in the order on the iPad. “Anything else? Maybe something that could actually count as breakfast? You look like a zombie.”

Shuichi tightened his grip on his coat. “No, that’ll be all.” _Don’t respond, don’t respond, don’t respond._

“That’ll be $2.24. Can I get a name?”

“Uh-“ Shuichi stammered, looking down, “Shuichi Saihara.”

“Just a last name would suffice. Stranger danger, they say!” The boy went back to his laughter, turning around and making his way to the coffee machine. “I’ll be right out with that boring coffee of yours.”

Shuichi was shellshocked, for just a moment. _How could he change demeanor so quickly?_ He thought. Sure, it was irritating to no end, especially when it was happening so early in the morning, but at the same time, it was also rather curious. It made him want to know more.

“Excuse me?” A small voice piped up from behind him, reminding him that he was still in line. He quickly stepped aside, apologizing as quickly as he could before pulling his coat even tighter around his body and making his way to the corner of the café.

It took much longer to get his drink than it would have if he’d been doing it, and with the yelling that was coming from behind the desk, he guessed he could figure out why.

“You know, Miu, if you’re so confident in your appearance, how about you stand outside and beckon people in? Then we’ll really see what people think of you,” the boy yelled over the sound of pouring coffee and buzzing machines.

“I’m not a tool! I’m here to make coffee, not give customer service,” Miu yapped back. “Besides, you’d have _too many_ people if I was the one calling people in.”

The barista just laughed in response, although it was more of a cackle than a true laugh.

“ _Shuichi Saihara_!” The boy called after a while, voice drawn out in a long and mocking way.

Shuichi ducked his head, trying his best not to look the other customers in the eye as he made his way to the front. “Thank you,” he muttered, taking the coffee and turning to leave. Just as he had gotten out the door and looked down at his drink, though, he noticed the black sharpie on the foam cup.

_Maybe you need to quit the coffee and get some sleep instead,_ it read, and then underneath it was his name, spelled wrong and written in cursive-like handwriting.

Shuichi would have agreed with the boy if he still wasn’t pissed off about the barista calling him pathetic.

Still, though, when he got home, he didn’t buy a new coffee machine. _Too much money,_ he reasoned the next day when he was standing in the ridiculously long time for the second time that week.

“ _Shuichi Saihara_ ,” Shuichi looked up to see the same barista as before, looking utterly unimpressed. “You know, when I told you to get more sleep and stop with the coffee, that was code word for _never come back to this café again_.” Even as he said it, though, he didn’t look like he meant it.

“You technically didn’t say it to my face,” he pointed out.

The boy scoffed. “Details, details. Who cares? My point got across, didn’t it?” Still, he powered on the iPad and hovered his finger over the buttons.

“I’ll have the same black coffee as before.”

“I guess it’s true what they say. Boring people stay boring!”

“I have never heard that saying before. Ever,” Shuichi deadpanned, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The barista rolled his eyes, “That’s because you don’t have friends to say it!”

_That was uncalled for,_ Shuichi thought pettily. He placed the money on the counter, the same amount as before, and then went to the same corner as the day before to wait.

It somehow took even longer than last time to get it done, with the barista insulting some blue-haired girl who kept talking about animes that he’d heard about but never watched. When it finally got done, though, the barista said his name in the same way he did last time.

Shuichi took the coffee, thanked him, and turned around to leave. This time, before he had even opened the door to the café, he checked the cup.

_Never mind what I wrote last time, Shuichi Saihara. You don’t need more sleep; you need more friends._

Shuichi wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or file a complaint.

He didn’t do either of those things, though. He just took a sip of his coffee and made his way down the familiar path to the company he worked for, already dreading the piles of papers and cases that would be sitting on his desk when he arrived.

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In the next few weeks, Shuichi learned a lot about the ever-changing barista. His name was Kokichi Ouma and he actually hated everything that was sold in Agora, except for the blueberry muffins that apparently reminded him of his evil politician best friend. He liked golden retrievers because, and Shuichi quotes, “ _they’re so dumb! The perfect partner in crime.”_ He had only watched one of the anime that the blue-haired barista- Tsumugi- had recommended to him, and it was a gambling anime that was apparently nothing like what true gambling is like. The only type of coffee that he liked was the peppermint lattes that Starbucks sold in the winter and his favorite murder method was strangulation.

It was a lot, and yet it didn’t feel like a lot. The information that Shuichi learned every day was more like the calm before the storm; he felt like a tornado chaser, walking directly into danger rather than far away from it. Shuichi hoped that one day he’d get to know what it felt like to be right in the middle of that storm.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As Kokichi once said, hope was just a feeble word to describe wanting something that you could never have.

The first time Shuichi gave his order to Kiibo instead of the usual purple-haired mystery, he didn’t think much of it. Everyone had days off; it was necessary for good health. It wasn’t until the third week being served by someone other than his regular that it truly sunk in.

Kaede had explained when he’d asked; Kokichi was a job-hopper. He’d only been working at the café for a little while, until he had to move again.

It felt like ice had filled his veins. Shuichi couldn’t understand it. Why would Kokichi not tell him? Was their friendship all just a lie?

It couldn’t have been. It had _felt_ real. It had _felt_ genuine. More than anything had before, it had felt like comfort. Even when he knew how stressful his week would be, even when the thought of having to break the truth to yet another broken person drained all the life from him, Kokichi had always been there to bring a little bit of light to his day.

After Kaede told him that, he stopped going to Agora. He bought a new coffee machine, he stopped coming to work five minutes late, and he stopped looking forward to hearing Kokichi’s joke of the day.

Of course, he didn’t mourn forever. Kokichi was just a small part of his life; someone there to give him a nudge to the finishing line. He found a new source of comfort, he began taking on the cold cases that he’d always wanted to, he met Kaito and Maki and finally fulfilled his goal of having friends to share his dreams with.

In the end, though, the fingerprints that Kokichi had smudged over his heart never went away. They stayed, all the way until his last moments, into the afterlife, and then further.

And Kokichi always remained the calm before the storm.

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

**_[ their second life ]_ **

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

When Kaede had first proposed the idea of him interning in America for a summer, he was skeptical. He had never heard of any super successful detectives in America, and even if he had, he’d still have been suspicious of why anybody that famous would take him on.

When Kaito had agreed with the idea, he’d gotten even more skeptical. It sounded less like a way to improve his skills and more like a way to push him out of his comfort zone. They’d been attempting to do that for months, and so far, they hadn’t been successful. First, it was leaving him by his lonesome at Rantaro’s college graduation party. Then, it had been making him order all of their drinks at the café they always hang out at, Agora. And now, it was this.

Even as he stood in front of the apartment he’d be staying at for the month, right in the heart of Salem, he wondered, _why did I agree to this?_

To his surprise, there had been quite a few detectives willing to show him the ropes after September, when he was put in the newspaper for solving a cold case that police hadn’t been able to decipher for years.

Eventually, he’d decided on interning with Detective Kirigiri, a girl who had been known for solving numerous murders and heists. She was also Japanese, which would make speaking and learning the culture easier.

He’d also chosen to intern in Salem because of the town in general. It seemed like it would be an interesting place to explore and visit. He even went so far as to write a list of all the places he wanted to visit.

First things first, though, he had to settle and start his work. So, he spent the first few days unpacking the few belongings he’d brought, scoping out places to eat, and introducing himself to the people he’d be working with. They were all very kind and considerate. Even Kirigiri, who seemed like such a cold, calculating person, was actually quite friendly.

It wasn’t until the first week had passed that he left his apartment and started down a different direction, towards the main part of the city.

It wasn’t as crowded as he thought it would be. Most of the people came in clusters, leaving a lot of open space on the sidewalk for him to move around. The town itself was amazing. Sure, it had some of the trash and dust that most cities had, but even so, it made up for it with the buildings.

The first thing he learned in that city was how easy it was to get lost.

He spent at least ten minutes wandering around blindly, searching for the first place on his list; _Salem Athenaeum._ Apparently, he’d looked lost to, because before he could spend another twenty minutes doublechecking google maps, a boy that looked to be around his age stepped right in front of him, one eyebrow raised curiously.

“Are you lost or something? You’ve been walking around in circles this whole time,” the boy asked, his hands clasped in front of him and his head tilted.

The first thing Shuichi could think of was stranger danger. ( _The second thing he thought of was the smell of coffee and freshly made blueberry muffins._ ) “Have you been following me?”

The boy just laughed at that, waving his hand. “Of course, I have! I’ve lived here for _years_ ,” he drew out the word boredly, as if it should be obvious, “and I’ve never seen you around! You seemed confused, so I followed you. It’s as simple as that!”

Shuichi had to admit, his answer was reasonable, but he still tensed up just a little bit when the other boy agreed to it. “Who are you?”

“A witch never gives his name away without reason!” He pointed out, but then he cackled and said, “but you don’t seem like a threat, so I think I can tell you! I’m Kokichi Ouma.”

“And… you’re a witch?” Shuichi asked blankly, relaxing into the conversation.

“Yup! Didn’t I just say that? Jeez, you need to listen better. And anyway, if you don’t want me to curse you, you’re going to have to tell me your name. It’s not fair otherwise.”

“Oh, right,” he straightened up, trying his best not to look as dumbfounded as he felt. “I’m Shuichi Saihara.”

“Really?” Kokichi asked, as if it was the most exciting thing he’d ever heard, and then he crossed his arms, his face going from relieved to cocky in two seconds flat. “I mean, I already knew that though. I’m a witch, remember?”

“You said that.”

He ignored that. “And, as a witch, I know my way around here! You’re a tourist, right?”

Shuichi shifted uncomfortably. “Not really. I’m here for an internship.”

He ignored that, too. “So, since you clearly don’t know where you’re going, how about I take you around? How about that? For as long as you’re here, I can act as your personal tour guide! Tour witch! How about it?”

Shuichi wasn’t sure just how helpful someone like Kokichi would be. He seemed like the type to lead them in circles on purpose. Still, though, he didn’t seem all that dangerous, and he _was_ correct.  
Shuichi didn’t know where he was going. So, against his better judgment, he said, “sure.”

Kokichi’s face lit up. “Great! Alright, where are we going first?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he pulled the paper out of his hands. “The Salem Athenaeum? That’s just a few blocks away. Come on, Saihara.”

He sped off, leaving Shuichi to follow as quickly (and helplessly) as he could. _I got myself into this situation, though, agreeing to this,_ he thought dismissively as he weaved around buildings.

When Kokichi finally stopped, Shuichi almost rammed into his back. In front of them was a large, historical-looking building. It was even more breathtaking than it had been in pictures. After a few seconds of simply staring, he felt a nudge to his side. “Hey, are you going to stand there staring all day, or are you going to go in?” Without waiting for an answer, he skipped inside, leaving Shuichi to trail in behind him.

The inside was covered wall to wall in books and files, each of them dated back years before he was born.

“Honestly, I can’t see why you’d be interested in this place. Everything here you can read online for free nowadays,” Kokichi commented, even as he slid a thick book off of the nearest shelf and started skimming through it.

“Sure, but it’s not the same as actually holding the books in your hands,” Shuichi responded, beginning to scan the shelves for something that piqued his interest.

“If you say so, Saihara.”

They ended up spending the rest of the evening there, reading books, looking around at the architecture, and chatting about the history of Salem itself. When seven rolled around, they made their way out, still talking about this and that.

“When are you going exploring again? Remember, I said I’d be your tour guide the whole time you’re here, not just today,” Kokichi reminded him.

Shuichi didn’t hesitate in the slightest when he said, “tomorrow, when I get off of work. It’ll be around five. I can give you the address to the apartment I’m staying at?”

Kokichi looked almost shocked for a second, as if he hadn’t been expecting him to agree. It disappeared off his face almost immediately, though, replaced by delight. “Yeah, give me your address.”

Shuichi scribbled it down on Kokichi’s arm and then they went their separate ways.

The moment he stepped into his apartment; he began deciding where he wanted to go next, already itching to go sight-seeing once more.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next day, Shuichi got home to more than just his tiny little couch and kitchen. Inside, sitting on his table rather than his chairs, was Kokichi Ouma, in all his glory.

The first thing Shuichi said was, “how did you get in my apartment?”

To which Kokichi replied, as if it was obvious and not illegal, “I picked your lock!”

Shuichi blinked a few times, beginning to consider backing out of their deal. Before he could say anything more on the subject, though, Kokichi hopped off the table and grabbed Shuichi’s bag from his hand, throwing it haphazardly next to the TV. He then began to make his way outside. “Come on, Saihara, we don’t have all day! What’s next on the list?”

He didn’t even have time to change into more casual clothes, he just turned around and followed his companion out the door. “ _Marble Faun Books and Gifts_ ,” he replied.

Kokichi hummed. “That was one of the first places I visited when I first moved here.”

“What was the first?”

“That’s a secret!” Kokichi giggled, running down the stairs two steps at a time. Shuichi followed a little more passively, walking rather than speeding.

They made their way down the street, back towards the main part of the city. There were less people than there had been the day before, but it was still fairly crowded. “Look!” Kokichi suddenly pointed. Shuichi followed with his eyes to see… nothing. There was nothing particularly interesting where he was pointing, besides a construction site.

“What?”

Kokichi sighed, exasperated, and lowered his hand. “There was a fairy, but you missed it.”

Shuichi raised a brow. “A fairy?”

“That’s what I just said,” he shrugged, “do you need me to say it again? Gee, you’re dumber than I thought.”

“I don’t think my intelligence has anything to do with your lies.”

Kokichi gasped, scandalized. “Do you not believe me, Saihara? That’s so cold of you!” Then, without warning, he broke into a run, forcing Shuichi to follow just as quickly.

They spent the rest of their walk weaving through the sea of people, Kokichi giggling like he had just heard the funniest joke in the history of humor, and Shuichi having to stifle his laughter as he reached out to grab Kokichi’s wrist, always just out of reach. _(Always just out of reach. Somehow, it sounded like a metaphor.)_

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A few days later, they were visiting the fourth place on Shuichi’s list, Pioneer Village.

It was a place that was supposed to replicate what Salem looked like in 1630, and truly, they nailed it. The place would be fun to simply walk around on his own; and, as he found, even more fun when he was walking around with Kokichi.

“Did people really live in these cabins?” Kokichi asked, his tone disbelieving. It was ironic.

Shuichi laughed, not tearing his gaze away from the sign he was reading. “Cabins that looked like these, supposedly. I thought you were a witch, Kokichi. Shouldn’t you know this?”

He huffed in response, crossing his arms and turning away but not leaving his side for a second. “Of course, I knew that! I was testing you. Duh.”

“Oh, I see,” Shuichi nodded in mock understanding, finally standing up straight and beginning to walk down a different path, Kokichi following after him.

They spent the walk laughing and making jokes, Kokichi lying and Shuichi pretending to believe every word of it. When they finally finished the circle and ended up at the entrance again, Kokichi grabbed Shuichi’s sleeve and started pulling him into the direction of the café down the street.

“You forced me to do something so _boring_ , so you have to pay for my meal!” He declared. Shuichi just snorted and agreed.

When Shuichi went to sleep last night, he found that he was more excited to see his ‘ _tour guide’_ than to see Detective Kirigiri.

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The rest of his internship was spent like that; he’d work in the morning and afternoon, and then when he got off, he’d come home to Kokichi sitting on his table, ready to start their exploring. It was a routine, and something that became like a second nature to him.

That was why when his final week of internship came to a close, he suddenly felt just as lost as he had that first day in Salem.

“You’ve been quiet, Saihara, what’s up?” Kokichi asked, suddenly looking up from the display case he’d been eyeing. “Ooh, I know! You’re planning our next trip, right? Right? Did I get it correct?” His eyes were practically sparkling with mischief.

Shuichi took a breath and then shook his head, nails digging into his palms. “We aren’t going to be having any more trips, Kokichi.”

Kokichi visibly deflated. “What does that mean?”

The atmosphere of the souvenir shop suddenly felt all too suffocating. “Today is my last day here. I’m flying back to America tomorrow.”

Kokichi was silent for a second. Then, he turned around and went back to looking at the display case. “Oh.”

Shuichi shifted uncomfortably, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

Kokichi laughed, almost nervously. “For what?”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“Why would you need to tell me?” Kokichi suddenly stood up straight, eyes twinkling once more. “I’m a witch! I already knew you’d be leaving today from the start; I just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know of my true abilities!”

“Oh yeah? Have any other ‘secret abilities’ to tell me about before I board the plane?” Shuichi asked, trying his best to lighten the situation.

Kokichi shook his head, palm up. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, and I’m sure your friends want you back in one piece!”

Shuichi laughed at that. It was stiff, but it was genuine. He wanted to put the future behind him, even if just for a second, so he could enjoy the last day he had with Kokichi.

They stayed in the heart of the city until the sun was down and the stars were up, pointing out constellations and sharing secrets under the night sky.

He tried not to think about how it was the last time they’d see the night sky together.

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Shuichi wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for. He’d wanted Kokichi to pick his lock one more time, wanted them to eat at one last café together, wanted them to walk down the streets of Salem one last time.

Instead, he said goodbye to Detective Kirigiri and boarded the plane, forced to blink away his tears as he put his suitcase up.

Why, Shuichi wondered, when the plane took off, did it smell of baked pastries and wasted whip cream?

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

**_[ their third life ]_ **

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

“ _It’ll be fun! Don’t look so down, Shuichi, a party is good for you! Gets you out of your comfort zone_ ,” Those were the things Kaito and Kaede had told Shuichi the night before, looking like a mix between desperate and hopeful.

Sitting in the corner of Kaede’s friend, Kiibo’s, house, he was still wondering why he agreed to go in the first place. The whole place smelled like alcohol, despite most everyone being completely sober, lights were strobing in the kitchen, and music was playing loud enough to burst his ears. And, worst of all, he didn’t know anybody at the party. Not even the host.

Shuichi sighed, resting his chin on his folded arms and counting down the seconds before he could finally go home.

He was at two-hundred and fifty-eight when he was quite rudely interrupted by a loud voice. “What are you, emo?” He looked up to see a purple-haired boy staring down at him, looking way too amused for the situation. “Don’t you have any friends to hang out with?”

“They all left,” Shuichi said dismissively.

“ _Wow_!” The boy giggled, dropping into the seat across from him. “You _are_ emo!” As he spoke, he slid a can of grape panta across the table until it was sitting right in front of Shuichi. “That’s for you, by the way, if you couldn’t tell. Geez, you act like nobody’s ever given you something before. Although, I take that back, because it’s probably true!”

Shuichi was, frankly, offended, but instead of saying anything about it, he just thanked him and took the soda. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so readily trusting that he didn’t drug the drink or something; there was just something about the boy that seemed safe, like he was an old friend that he’d known his whole life.

“I’m Kokichi, by the way. And, let me guess! You’re _Emo Hat Guy_ ,” the boy- Kokichi- laughed at his own joke, as if it didn’t flop miserably.

“I’m Shuichi Saihara,” he said, sitting up straight and pulling his sleeves over his hands.

“Huh. That sounds familiar, somehow,” Kokichi tapped his chin in thought and then he snapped his fingers, as if he’d figured it out. “I know! I must’ve seen your file before. You know, since I work with the government and stuff!”

Shuichi blinked, taken aback. “You do?”

“But of course! I work with every country’s government; Japan, Russia, America… You name it, I rule it. Me and my evil organization of misfits, that is.”

Embarrassingly, it took a few seconds before Shuichi realized he was lying. “I doubt it.”

“That’s so mean!” Kokichi whined, crossing his arms. “I would _never_ lie. I hate liars! They’re the worst!” And then he paused, smile forming on his face once more. “Or is that lie?”

Shuichi’s headache had just gotten a hell of a lot worse.

Still, though, he humored him. “They’re all lies. Everything you just said, I mean.”

“Oh? And how can you tell?”

_And there goes my last shred of dignity,_ Shuichi thought. Then, as if on cue, he went into an in-depth explanation of how obviously Kokichi was lying.

The conversation escalated from there, and eventually, Shuichi had forgotten he’d been feeling anxious in the first place.

They spent the rest of the night talking, Kokichi joking and lying and Shuichi deadpanning his way through every response.

By the time Kaede had come back to drag him out the door, he’d figured out multiple truths about Kokichi; he hated all coffees except peppermint lattes, he thought history was boring but found the Salem Witch Trials and the Titanic to be super interesting, and he used to be apart of the chess club in high school.

Somehow, in the back of his mind, Shuichi knew, as he walked out the house door, that those were the last truths he’d ever hear from Kokichi.

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

**_[ their fourth life ]_ **

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

Shuichi’s parents left the house every weekend. That was why, when his window started to shake and quiver at ten-thirty PM, he knew that the _proper_ thing to do was to call his neighbor for help.

What he also knew, though, was he had an essay due at eleven-fifty-five for his criminal justice class, and ultimately, that was far more important than some pathetic robber.

“Come in!” He called instead of panicking. The window suddenly stopped quivering, and for a few seconds, Shuichi thought that he had accidentally scared the intruder off. _Honestly, just shoot me now. I’d rather die than have to read my professor’s feedback on my half-assed essay at two in the morning._

Apparently, the intruder was not shaken off, because all of a sudden the window fully opened and a man stepped in. His face was covered by a clown mask, he was wearing only white and checkered-patterns, and his hair was just barely visible, purple in a tiny ponytail.

“You know, I don’t think that’s the right response to have when somebody’s breaking into your house,” was the first thing he said.

Shuichi, against his better judgment, said, “I don’t think it’s proper etiquette to break into somebody’s house in the first place.”

The man shrugged, as if it was perfectly normal, and collapsed onto Shuichi’s floor. “There weren’t any cars in the driveway. I wasn’t planning on stealing from here, anyway. Just hiding from the police.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned the police that Shuichi really comprehended that the buzzing coming from outside of his house was the cops and not a very loud and annoying bee.

“Oh.”

Shuichi had nothing else to say. He just finished the sentence he was writing and hummed along to the song that was playing on his radio.

“What’re you doing?” The man suddenly asked, standing up and hovering over Shuichi’s shoulder like they’d known each other forever.

“Writing this essay for my demon of a criminal justice professor.” Then, he laughed. “Kind of ironic, actually.”

The man frowned at that, sighing dramatically and turning away, his arms crossed. “I am _not_ a criminal! Just a thief.”

Shuichi laughed even harder at that. “Even better!”

The thief just huffed. “You’re so cold!”

At that point, the essay had been long forgotten in favor of keeping up a conversation with the intruder. “What did you steal, anyway?”

“Just seven million dollars and the key to a Ferrari!” the man said innocently.

“ _Just_?” Shuichi asked, doubtful.

“And this wooden sculpture of a cat.” He suddenly pulled a tiny cat figurine out of his pocket, and Shuichi almost completely broke down into giggles. _God, he needed sleep._

“Very impressive,” Shuichi replied, trying his best to stay deadpanned. For some reason, he felt more overjoyed than he had in weeks; he wasn’t sure if it was the sleep-deprivation or something more.

Their conversation continued until the red and blue lights that were once shining through Shuichi’s window faded. A few seconds of silence passed and then the thief suddenly turned to leave, pushing the window open once more. “Well, a supreme leader has got to do what he’s got to do!” He laughed and then, without warning, swung his legs over the windowsill.

Shuichi wasn’t sure why he got up. He wasn’t sure why he ran towards the window, wasn’t sure why he stuck out his hand after the thief had already jumped out, wasn’t sure why he called, “what’s your name?” All he knew was that he didn’t want the thief to leave.

The thief just cackled, waving his free hand as he climbed onto another roof. “A phantom thief never gives out his name to strangers! Especially not to a criminal justice student like yourself!”

Shuichi wasn’t sure why he did it; he’d never heard the name before in his life, never met anybody who’d uttered the words he did, but the only thing that felt right was to scream, “Kokichi, wait!”

The thief froze and for just a second, he looked like he was going to turn around. Then, without responding, he stood up straight and bolted, his body out of sight in a second.

Shuichi also wasn’t sure why the disappearing figure of the thief made him fall onto the ground and cry. Wasn’t sure why his room suddenly smelled like herbal teas and blueberry muffins.

_It must have just been the sleep-deprivation._

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

**_[ their sixth life ]_ **

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

“Shumai,” a sleepy voice suddenly said, waking Shuichi up from his nap. Instead of responding, he just groaned and shuffled away.

“Oh, so if I wake you up it’s a death sentence, but when you wake me up, it’s free game?” He complained sleepily, trying to bury himself under the blankets and stay in bed forever.

The familiar voice- Kokichi- just giggled. “Everything about our relationship is a game!” Then, he stripped the blankets away from Shuichi. “And in this game, I’m winning.”

Shuichi rolled his eyes, finally stretching and sitting up straight. Kokichi immediately brightened and settled himself right next to him, two mugs in his hand. “Look, I made us coffee!”

He almost laughed when he looked at the two cups. They were so obviously different; one was pure black, nothing added, and the other was covered in whip cream, peppermint sticks, and chocolate flakes.

Instead of pointing it out, he just took the mug and took a few sips. _Kokichi already knew._

Kokichi snuggled into Shuichi’s side, taking long swigs of the coffee rather than savoring it. Whether or not it could even count as coffee anymore was beyond Shuichi.

The atmosphere of their room was comfortable; the sun was streaming into their window, all of Kokichi’s endless stuffed animals were lined up on Shuichi’s desk (what used to be Shuichi’s desk, anyway), and their white fluffy blanket was still pulled up over Shuichi’s legs.

Suddenly, Shuichi felt the need to grip onto Kokichi’s hand and never let go. So, he did, just to remind himself that he could.

There was no fear or panic in the motion; just the steady reminder that he didn’t need to worry. Kokichi wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he.

It felt like finally and forever. Not a happy ever after, but rather, a continuation of what his life has been all along.

Kokichi squeezed his hand back and Shuichi knew he understood.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I almost cried writing the salem au, ngl, lmao. If you liked this, please leave kudos and/or a comment! it keeps me writing <3 and, additionally, if you're interested in keeping up to date with my writing, i do a lot of a3 and danganronpa (and sometimes other stuff) on my tumblr: xxxbookaholic
> 
> have a nice rest of your day/night!


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